


incandescent glow

by flightofwonder



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Force-Sensitive Din Djarin, Gen, Happy Ending, That's Not How The Force Works (Star Wars), i'm so happy that's a tag on here, kinda sorta i keep it vague, not so much a fix-it as a reassurance that everything will be okay, takes place after chapter 16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28161294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightofwonder/pseuds/flightofwonder
Summary: For the first time in a long time, he laughed.  (Of course– Grogu was always as subtle as a freight crash.)For the first time in a long time, he cried. (His arm was bent at half-mast, cradling air.)(Takes place after Chapter 16.)
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda
Comments: 46
Kudos: 451





	incandescent glow

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I guess I'm a member of the "if I don't write about that finale I'll combust" club! I hope we have tissues! (I also know as little about Star Wars lore as Din does, so apologies for the inaccuracies, but if grown white men get to fuck around and make up shit in this universe, so do I.)

It started so small at first, Din didn’t even notice it.

A foreign feeling, right under his chest plate. If he didn’t know any better, he would think his chest was burning, but there was no fire and he felt no pain. He removed a glove and reached under the beskar plate, but his skin was cool to the touch.

Something warm and calm and joyful, a little spark of a thing – _almost_ like a feeling, but not quite. A mirror of it, maybe. It was… strange, but its presence was not invasive, and that made no sense. Din had lived his life on guard for everything, so then why did he let this slip past his armor?

Din checked for any loose wiring around him – it wouldn’t be the first time he fried himself with his own machinery. But no, there was no reason for hallucinations or heart attacks, but the curious warmth that seemed to hover right above his heart remained. No vibrations rang through his beskar, but he felt as if something ghostly was tapping on his chest plate, just the same.

Then, the gentle tap became an avalanche, and the force of it hit Din with all the power of a star cruiser, literally knocking him back into his seat.

Gasping for breath, he reached out to steady himself, the force of the feeling washing over him like a wave in a vast ocean. But where one might have expected a wildfire from that spark, Din could only feel a warmth that was gentle, like a sunset breeze off his home planet, from eons ago.

Din didn’t fight it – it was _familiar_ , even though he’d never experienced anything like this. The stars seemed to tilt, then expand and stretch further into the void from his cockpit, and Din sat back, witness to the feeling of it all. It was overwhelming, but not frightening. He was tied to his body, to his beskar, but his mind floated further with this sensation than he had ever allowed it to before. He was a Mandalorian; disciplined, focused. He was Din Djarin and everything he’d named himself.

But the sensation named him, too. And from the outside looking in, Din saw the words that weren’t his. The title he’d never bestowed upon himself.

 _Father_.

Then, Din knew.

For the first time in a long time, he laughed. ( _Of course_ – Grogu was always as subtle as a freight crash.)

For the first time in a long time, he cried. (His arm was bent at half-mast, cradling air.)

The sensation eventually left him, as all things must, disappearing into the nothing that was always there. Din’s cheeks were wet, but he smiled. Something that had been unsettled in his chest since Grogu left, something trembling and tender, finally fell into a still peace - if only for a little while.

And how honored he was. How proud. Through the space and time between them, Grogu reached out and bared something Din couldn’t quite understand, but still recognized as precious.

(Like a face under beskar – something revealed. Something shared.)

Din looked around the cockpit that used to haunt him with its emptiness, and he felt less alone. Even in the lingering absence of him, Din would know his son anywhere.

* * *

These waves of warmth from Grogu – _the Force_ , Ahsoka had called it – were unpredictable and spotty, which only served to make Din smile, because wasn’t that Grogu’s way?

Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, when he felt that glow of warmth right above his heart, he would close his eyes and let it wash over him. Sometimes, it was as joyfully erratic as a mischievous giggle, other times, as calm as a gentle coo. It came at incredibly inconvenient times, because of course it did, of course _he_ did, and he and his companions make excuses for him to step away, every time.

Din could feel the Grogu’s reluctance to leave every time, too. As he came with eager and open arms, he left with fingers gripped tight on his mind. Din patiently eased the way for him as much as he knew how. Reassuring him with his free-floating thoughts: _it’s okay. I’m okay_. And he meant it.

The absence was still gaping. Din knew he’d do anything to feel that bundle of warmth in his arms again, to hear his piccolo laughs and cries. To feel the careful touch of a claw against his cheek. But Din was grateful. He wondered at the unconditional love that traveled the stars, just to get to him.

Din wished he could return it. But there was no way to know if it worked both ways – if Din’s love was strong enough to reach back across the galaxy. He hoped it was. He hoped Grogu _knew_. (Next time they were together, Din would tell him. He promised.)

Nightmares would slip through, too. Unlike the gentle waves that Grogu led to the shore of Din’s mind, the nightmares were a hurricane of turmoil and fear. Grogu’s mind was closed-fisted, the storm barely but desperately held back, and Din could feel the child’s trembling will to keep the feelings from slipping into Din’s mind, like soup spilling from a bowl. To be strong and unafraid – _like his father_.

The circumstance was new, but the feelings were not. Din was once a foundling, too.

Din coaxed Grogu as best he could to release the anticipation and the fear Grogu held so close to his chest. He summoned memories from his past to soothe: happier times with his parents, proud moments with his founder. _I’m here_ , he’d whisper, _I am with you_. And bit by bit, Grogu would let go.

It was more trust than he had ever earned in his life. His eyes were always wet with tears after he opened them again.

* * *

Even without the child, Din had a life to live. Sometimes he scraped by and his moments of peace had to be fiercely earned. Other times were easier, because he was not as alone as he was before. For the first time in a long time, he had friends. He learned how to let himself lean on them in the darker moments – and that lesson was harshly learned. His anger and stubbornness passed in time, and Din learned to be thankful for them.

His world was bigger now. It took a while for him to begrudgingly admit to himself that he liked it that way. Not always, but… sometimes. With all the chaos that invited in, sometimes the smiles from grateful faces were worth it.

Still, a routine became consistent wherever he went. Before falling asleep, he would slip his helmet from his head and close his eyes. Center himself, discordant ideas about the Force rattling in his head before he quieted them, and he would reach out. He had gathered different practices of meditation from the various planets he visited, and he always felt a little ridiculous when he started. But if there was any chance to return to Grogu what he gave to him, he would suffer any indignity. (In truth, he’d already suffered most.)

After a while, he would open his eyes, sigh, and hope.

He never used to hope this much before he had Grogu. The kid had put him in contact with many dangerous, wondrous things.

He shouldered them with pride. And he would carry them until he could show them to his son.

* * *

One day, they will meet again.

There will be no more space between them, no more stars to reach through. Just that familiar and reassuring weight in the crook of his arm, those excited squeals in his ears, the touches that Din would only ever allow from him: his heart, his child.

And the love, like a sun, so large and all-encompassing, neither of them would know where it began or ended. It will circle them both like an atmosphere, and for a moment, they will know they are exactly where they belong.

On that day, Din will form a question in his mind, and Grogu will pluck it, like a flower in a field, and tell him:

 _I always knew_.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't speak for anyone else, but I think a reason the finale hit That Hard is: it's the holidays, and it's 2020, and being alone right now especially fucking _sucks_. If you're feeling particularly lonely right now, I hope you know that the love in your life is real, no matter the distance inbetween.
> 
> (Let's go burn 2020 in a dumpster fire.)


End file.
